The Russian Roulette of Hate
by Isn'titIronic
Summary: Will this boy find what he's looking for, a girl, internal peace and a balance of emotions?
1. My soul

**OMGOSH, my first story! Ahhhh.. I hope it turns out okay. I mean, I'm sure you'd like popcorn if it was a movie, but I would have no idea what you would want for a story like this  
=\ coke perhaps?**

**Anyway I REALLY HOPE THAT YOU ENJOY! XD TALK ABOUT EMOTIONAL! Gosh, somedays.. URG! I guess that's life..  
**

* * *

Unwillingly, and forcefully, he picked up the pen; and commenced writing. Ink blazed across the page, showing deformed scratches in an attempt to form letters. However gradually, he worked his way to the bottom of the page and rest his pen silently on the table. The teacher eyed his uncharacteristic behaviour suspiciously, then, like an assassin hitting his mark, she crept up to him and violently snatched the paper from his hands. With utter shock, she dropped the pen to the ground and frowned intensely in a considerable manner.

This was unusual indeed she thought. Spontaneously, the bell had chimed and the class had commenced to pack up their gear, then the PA announced that it was imperative for Mr. Narahc, to visit the shaggy, feral music teacher. Something clicked inside his head as if ten bullets had ricocheted in his head simultaneously. He didn't precisely know the nature of this request; however a vague idea rang throughout his head.

With the class dismissed, Mr. Narahc ventured over to the office, the adrenal gland pumping ferociously and he felt as if his heart was moving through his oesophagus, about to be regurgitated. He voyaged through the dusty and lonely corridors and his legs became jelly, it was as if he was standing on the sea. However, he had to grip reality by the iciness of his hands and snap back from his fantasy.

Mr. Narahc moved inch by inch, until suddenly he was at the door, this building reeked with opulence and sumptuousness but felt cold as a stalagmite jabbing into the warmth of a Good Samaritan's heart.

MY VIEW

I leaned forward and touched the knob, it felt cold, my stomach lurched and I pulled my hand back. Hesitantly I reached forward again, but my mind wasn't in its initial, intricate frame work. Firstly, this situation could be worse, and secondly, my heart had been replaced, with fluids of hate rushing throughout my body and that latched on to my brain firmly, this mood is defined as: _watch out, or I'll kill you, just like I threatened to do to my mother._

I opened the door vigorously this time, and to my surprise, a beautiful woman had turned around. She was quite pretty, and immediately lightened my mood, leaving me relieved. Her light brown hair bounced off her shoulders, her eyes glowed, full of marvel and her smile radiated the room. I felt that I liked her instantly, and trusted her. I really don't trust people as easily as I can yell, I really don't, but that's the phenomena that occurred and that shocked me further. My mood lightened and I wasn't in that emotional state.

The swift scan of the room informed me that one: he was there which stopped my real heart flow and my 'hate fluid' returned and two: that he was packing up, so this would be a quick visit. I pondered and pondered what it could have been, until I reached his desk.

"I hope our next music class may be better, but I find your comments and talking back rude and I don't care if you had a bad day. Do you agree that it's rude?"

Hate sizzled in my head, boiling my blood. I felt the blood vessels in my head were about to pop, like how the sausage had formed on Squizzy Taylor's neck in the novel I had read the year before. Thoughts began to bounce in my head. I mean firstly, IT'S WHO I AM, you can't change me, you can't touch me, I'm me and my tale is unwritten, but I've only etched one word in my head that describes you: "HATE". I looked back at him and agreed as I had no choice. "Yes, I do think it's rude."

'_YOU DON'T KNOW ME,'_ my mind screamed. Now everyone had their eyes peeled towards me, they don't know me, and neither does he. That was what enraged me. I had the slight temptation to strangle him and the fact that he didn't care about me having a bad day magnified my anger and hatred. My eyes narrowed and I calmed myself.

"Thank you, now enjoy your holiday," he stated in that tone I have now learnt to despise.

"Bye," I replied back with a gloomy attitude.

I stormed out, as if I had a blood trail under me and was trying to shake it. I felt my heart beat relax and my hatred was still present. Although that 'hate fluid' was in me, my head was ringing, my fist pounding, as if the pulse grew one million times stronger. My head began to sing, I giggled slightly to its rhyme and rhythm: Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and revenge is too. With this, I took the words to heart and wrapped in around the complex, bottled up feelings in my 'heart' so to speak.

Tears streamed from my eyes, it was as if my eyes were bleeding but were perpetual. I wanted to break free but couldn't. Then my ears caught the sound of heels 'clickity-clackiting' on the marble floor. I hastened my pace, forward I went, pretending to be oblivious to the sound approaching. I didn't want to be lectured, I didn't want to be talked to, and I wanted to tell someone I know, someone I knew for a long time.

'Tap' on my shoulder. Rudely, I ignored it and continued on. Then she stopped me with a brisk movement of her feet in front on mine.

My voice unsteadily groaned with a "what?"

"I couldn't help but over hear, but-"

"Ohh… I see, didn't your mother tell you that eaves's dropping was rude?"

She stared at me sharply.

"Okay look, I'm sorry for being moody and unco-operative, but I really don't want to talk. It's difficult for me to articulate to someone who I've JUST recently met. I'm not like that at all, in-fact I'm not that rude all the time, it's just that I haven't been feeling emotionally stable as I'd like to be," I began with, slowly yet filled with rage.

"It always seem as though as soon as happiness has blessed itself upon me, tragedy strikes and I end up in tears. No-one understands that, in fact, I don't even believe that occurs to anyone else but me, I'm cursed, and I'm sure you don't want to associate yourself with me, but please, take my advice and leave, I don't want to harm you unnecessarily," I quietly and calmly articulated with, not wanting to see what she would do next.

Surprisingly to me, her eyes swelled up, and unexpectedly she jumped forward and gave me a hug. "You're right, I don't know, but just remember, if you want to talk, I'm here. You're not the only one in the world that goes through this, you're just an innocent lose who's lost its way. All roads lead to one ultimate resolution in the end, and thank you," she stated, her ice blue eyes looked at me, and then she left. I turned around and reflected upon what she enlightened me with.

I just want to be free. Is it too much to ask? Why can't I ever experience happiness, without someone shattering it two minutes later? WHERE'S THAT feeling of satisfaction? Achievement? Am I doomed? Will I ever love someone as they love me? Do I have hope? Do people care about me?

These questions haunt me for now, and probably will for the rest of my life.

If you do exist, my guardian angel, where are you? I need you.

* * *

**R&R **

**I really do hope that you enjoyed it. XD And to think I've gotten this far. So much more to go.. **

**Sometimes you just need tea. DON'T ASK.  
**


	2. Sin

**Apologies for the lateness of my story! Enjoy XD. **

**Want some skittles? :p  
**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 2 **

_Tick-tock, tick-tock _the clocked worked on the wall like the gears grinding away in my head. I want to do something – anything - to take the excruciating pain of this moment away and send it far away, not even the finest particle of dust could settle on its wretched surface.

Life is constituted of numerous moments: first word, first birthday (excluding your birth), first kiss, when you find out you hate every human you hate alive or dead – yes; that's a moment too. Unlike you, I share an intimate connection with the dark side, but for some obfuscated reason, I caught a glimpse of the brighter side. I crossed that foggy divide and entered territory unseen by my eyes for many years, for a second I thought I was blinded and oblivious to sight. I liked it.

It's unlike me to do new things, adventurous things. But then again; life is made up of trying and obviously failing. Of course the general courses of actions pursued by me are under the influence of my mood or current emotions. Take for example the incident in chapter with that pathetic excuse for a music teacher; yes, you heard me (well not really but anyway) and how my mood was under the influence of the 'hate fluid' which latched on to me.

I walked along the long and ghostly corridors; with every step I took: guilt. With every breathe I took; a sin, and every blink: a tear of pain constituted of pain. Walking into my own rhythm, I voyaged across the corridors which trapped me in and held me captive against my own will. I wasn't particularly aimed for a specific destination, but anywhere will do.

Skipping down the steps; I became the victim of it, tripping down the stairs. Instantaneously, I gripped onto the handrails and stabilized myself. Contemplating my way down the remaining steps, I opened the doors of the courtyard and embraced the light of the yard.

Freedom. Liberty. Independence. All the things which I clung to so dearly – accompanied by other things of course.

Bliss the light was from the sun, it was as if I was a prisoner experiencing the grace from the sun for the very first time. It bounced off my skin warmed my body. I just stood there, as if paralysed and unable to move indulging in the sun.

From memory, I recall a particularly bright day, where a girl in my science lesson was required to move. She was instructed to move beside the window. Rudely I remarked, "Be careful your face doesn't melt in the sun," and the girls behind me snickered.

I heard a faint whisper in the distance as if someone called my name. I turned around briskly as if someone fired a gun. Looking towards the shelter, I spied it meticulously and there, sitting on the bench, was that girl. She looked more radiant in the sun. Her hair bounced off her shoulders and her eyes glistened as if they were made of the purest water touched my God's lips.

To my surprise – SHE WAS A STUDENT. I was hesitant as whether to voyage over there as I was rather indecisive. _Nothing ventured nothing gained_; the thought echoed in my head. Gradually more ground was trodden on by my unstable feet, with its nerves all tangled and exhausted.

"Hi!" she interjected.

"Hello," I retaliated. I've never had problems talking to girls. Even if I was somewhat fond of them, but if I did care considerably for them I would slightly stutter. Now my attitude is that I don't care.

"How are you? You were pretty shaken up since our previous discussion."

"I wouldn't exactly identify it as a discussion and I've experienced numerous emotions, henceforth I don't know how I am and I don't think I will be for quite some time."

She responded with a laugh. I never did quiet interpret the humorous aspect of my response.

"Well, if you need to talk I am here." She gave a warm smile which insinuated comfort and security. "You're quite complex and different are you?"

"I am not different for just the sake of being different but I am not a sheep of the general consensus. And yes I am complex but I like it that way. I figure the only person who can understand me –"

"Will be compatible – in your sake of course," she stated cutting me off, but she was correct in saying that. She was quite intuitive and she completed my sentence. She saved me from saying something incredibly corny, but when she said it; it was as if it flowed naturally and was completely normal.

"Well I have to depart now, but I'll see you later and hopefully you'll be better than you were last time Mr. Narahc," she farewelled to me, smirking a little as she used my codename that I liked to use whenever I wanted to hide from the rest of the world. Accompanying this statement with a hug, she squeezed tight, feeling like I was in the sanctuary of an angel's arms.

It's been quite some time since the music teacher incident. I've grown from it. I haven't exactly developed my wings or learnt how to fly like a bird, but I'll get there: through perception of the wonders of life and the happiness it can offer and I can obtain. But at this moment, I feel oblivious to it. My mental response to most things is 'whatever'. I have gotten over my period of depression but the band-aid left a mark, a scar. Scathed as my skin was when I was burnt will leave the same impression on my tortured soul.

The bell chimed for the commencement of the final two periods. My teacher hadn't yet inquired about the text I had written on the day of which I was invited forcefully to my teacher's office but I had a feeling that her curiosity was at its peak and I was cornered into honesty and liberation of my unmatched and perplexing emotions. I turned the knob of the lock. The first number: success. The second: triumph. The third: accomplishment.

I pulled at the lock. My facial expression instantaneously was the resemblance of failure and malfunction. _Why didn't it open?_ The question plagued my head, engulfing every other though and spiralling out of control in my head. I once again endeavoured at opening my lock. _Success. _

A slight reflexive smile crossed my mouth hastily then left. Launching my arm to get my books I hit my elbow in the door. I retrieved my books and swiftly closed my locker door and headed for my classroom.

Unobtrusively, I sat down and placed my books scrupulously on my desk. I sat down and half expected my teacher to bust through the door and fire questions. This absurd notion made me panic unnecessarily but I remained calm and vigilant. With arrogance around me and excessive pride, there was no one in the class in which I could confide. Discuss anything or express myself healthily.

Spontaneously the teacher approached me but was surreptitious. _So much for being vigilant._ She was a pretty intelligent and cool teacher. She was extremely lenient and wasn't strict at all. Cool calm and collected was the best way to describe her and she never holds a grudge. Forgiving and friendly, one those things I could never be.

Sometimes I hate myself. I hate it when I become something our mould into something from the surrounding circumstances into something that I never want or covet to be.

Most fortuitously I wasn't bombarded with questions referring to my writing piece. Instead it was returned to me with red lines and marking's indicating grammatical errors or the coherence of sentences and structure. At the bottom was her comments constituted of constructive feedback – although I'd like to think of it as a polite way of saying "you suck" – and of positive comments.

I hastily filed it away into my book. My emotions of hate and anger were controlled. I caught a glimpse of the lighter side. The sun beaming down from heaven, the ground sturdy and reliable beneath my feet, with the air carrying the bliss of nature and the sweetness of souls. The mood was infallible, indestructible; I didn't exactly feel invincible but powerful and dominant.

I so crave the feeling of happiness. Thoughts of happiness strolled in my mind but before I could delve into the matter, my thoughts were rudely interrupted by the receptionist.

"Waiting for the year sevens to settle," she retorted. I snickered slightly and my mind was showered about her and how honestly pathetic she is. She concluded with the announcements and the bell rang soon after. Our teacher had commended our behaviour today and she dismissed us on time – for once.

Before there was a risk of me being called to discuss with her the text I, zipped out of the room. This time, frustration spiralled around me and my locker opened on my first effort. _Not bad_ my mind remarked. I anticipated that my locker would appear to be quite distorted and unorderly as I previously had rapidly obtained my book but I was wrong. Luckily everything was in order and I efficiently packed everything away.

I sat on the swing; it squeaked and sounded like a broken record. Fatigued from my efforts of today, I picked up my bag and headed home.

A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE

He has no notion, no concept of how strong he is. Yes he felt weak, but now he's developing, he's growing up. He walked home, head down stepping warily and missing every crack without fail. The afternoon was hot and lazy, with the trees swaying from the gentle breeze. As if every now and then a ghost ran by it; pulling the branches and laughing with joy.

Every time a breeze passed, he tilted his head up, and felt the breeze twisting its way down into his pores; calming the mind and putting it at rest. The breeze made him feel light, but his heart grounded him, his soul was mystified and surrounded in swirls of black. He treaded across the driveway and to a house – his house of course. But not his home.


End file.
